


The Call

by Inde



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Demon AU, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Minor Re-Writes, Oni Genji, Other, Requested, Soulmate AU if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 03:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inde/pseuds/Inde
Summary: You find yourself attracted to a devil. Accidentally.





	1. Chapter 1

At first, there was little cause for concern. As all good stories tend to go, you met and became _deeply, abruptly, and madly_ infatuated, although it’s important to note that all of this had happened under the distinct impression that he was like you.

_Human._

How wrong you were.

How many _good_ stories can begin with blood?

‥ 

In cursory investigation, you learned the word given to his kind: Oni. You felt each corrupt sound as it left your mouth. A blind tasting, marvelling in the complicated feelings it invoked. _O-ni._ After breaking down a compendium of myth and folk-tales, dark violet of fixation blooming, you took in as much information as you could find. Oni. Traditionally formless; harbingers of disease and disaster; damned creatures; troll-like; remarkably hideous... but, he wasn’t any of those things. Not even distantly. He had wrapped himself in the most persuasive covers a demon could summon. Again, you had been fully convinced he was human. There were no possible alternatives.

And that’s when you knew you were in trouble, after you understood the information and the dangerous position it left you in but made no attempts to pull back. You knew you should have turned away, ran if you could, but you didn't. Worse still? You wanted him closer. Your instinct was numbed, convoluted, useless. Thoughts of him made your pulse race, made static dance across the skin, made electricity traverse the heart. Gave you pure adrenaline, rushes of blood to the head. Warmth.

As much as you wanted him, he wanted you twice as badly.

‥

He had been in the middle of a knot of people when you had first seen him in the waking dream of Tokyo’s nightlife, captivating the interests of his company and charming them with a story. Every one of his gestures heightened the dramatic energy around him, an intentional flourish. The calculated angle of his tilting gaze, the way he moved as if he understood he was the protagonist in his life’s movie; a part of it being his ego’s expression, but also in active protest against the mundane. He looked every bit human then.

Even after you willed your attention onto other things, the lull of background sounds or the familiar presence of your friends, you were helpless to look back for moments at a time, intent on watching from the outside. Passive glances over the rim of the glass in your hand between sips, innocuous checks of your periphery.

By then, he was already in your head.

"What are you looking at?"

The voice of one of your friends, unclear even in memory underneath the audible tide.

You discreetly singled him out and they recoiled.

"You know who that is, right?"

"Am I supposed to?"

“That’s Genji, as in, _Genji_ _Shimada_."

"And?"

"And I shouldn’t have to say anything else about it with a last name like _that_.”

Everyone knew the Shimada family from sleepy little Hanamura kept a dicey little secret. They were famous for things no one talked about without looking over their shoulders first. But it was easy to dismiss the rumours from the sight of his enigmatic smile, slick as a knife.

"He seems harmless enough," you decided.

“From a distance, don't they always?”

With your friends finally calling it a night, you gravitated towards the bar counter, intentionally drawing out your own exit. You twisted the plastic straw around the cup you held, making it chase the ice as it melted in a private trance as the evening gradually took its toll on you. People on either side of you stood, leaving in packs and freeing the seats around you. You intended to leave shortly after them when Genji decided to break away from his group.

You stiffened as he sat next to you, knowing with the smallest sideways glance that it was him, unwilling to be the first to speak— if that had even been his intention. You wondered if it was his way of making sure you understood that he felt you occasionally looking over towards him throughout the evening.

Except, it wasn’t like that at all.

“Your drink is empty,” he said.

Although stunned, temporal blur playing tricks with your focus, you forced yourself to speak for sake of responding. You felt the first redness of embarrassment rise under your collar, working its way up to your face. “So is yours.”

"Good." The corners of Genji's mouth lifted slowly into a close-lipped smirk. “Now would be the perfect time for me to approach you, if such a thing exists.”

You gave him a high-eyebrowed look. "Are you?"

"I am, if that's alright." Taking your expression into account, he leaned closer, carrying his phrase with him. “I was hoping to save us from falling into awkward small talk."

"And yet, valiant efforts considered, here we are," you teased then laughed. It was a small and gentle thing but enough to cut the dead air. He laughed with you.

"An unwritten rule of the universe, perhaps," he replied, innocently, while motioning towards the bartender and holding two fingers up.

“Then consider me impressed, going up against the very forces of nature just to buy me a drink...”

“Ah, thank you,” Genji said with a wink, all playful rising and falling tone of voice. He looked towards the crystalline floating shelves partitioned by the counter, a thin slab of quartz, all the bottles glowing under intense violet lights. Some semblance of seriousness gripped him and his cheeks hollowed. “Risks become easy to ignore when the reward speaks to us. No one is immune from the call."

The bartender set the cups down before you, exchanging them for the empty ones. Neither of you looked away from the other as you wrapped your hands around the new glasses.

"Risks?" You asked him, fingers finding the little plastic straw once more. "Did I call to you?"

"Hm, in a way. Even if it was accidental, if fortune and luck have brought us together tonight, it is still a thing of remarkable beauty." A knowing expression crossed his eyes first and lips second, "I saw you watching me. I know you see something you want."

You pressed a hand to the side of your face, hoping to hide the flush that rushed to fill your cheeks. "Yeah, I suppose I could have hid it better... I'm sorry—"

"Please, don't be. I should be sorry as well since I was watching you too. Perhaps, not as obviously but I had to or else how would I have noticed?"

It should have been awkward but his admission changed the dynamic; your interest was reciprocated, complicit in mutual curiosity. If he didn't feel ashamed, then neither would you. "Shame about the rules of the universe, then," you said, idly, picking your drink up.

"Rules should always be tested... Broken, if you’re motivated.”

"Imagine the chaos.”

“I am,” Genji's eyes flashed as he raised his glass to the same height as yours, allowing them to touch briefly, “I live for it.”

‥

You continued talking that night, neglecting the time, wondering if Genji would leave to rejoin his group but he made no effort to return to them. Light from a hanging installation above bounced of the chrome and glass embedded in the quartz, glistening and soft. Enchanted, you were convinced you could have sat there for hours until daylight broke.

Over the night, you drew him in with your words, promising something raw and paradoxically human, something he had once known well, a memory returning after laying dormant in his head. He began to recover a kind of connection that had been alluding him for long enough that when he caught a glimpse at it, he knew to follow it totally and completely, a pitch of desire so extreme it left a numb feeling in the fingertips like falling into bed after a long day— _save that it wasn't a day but hundreds of years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds_ — of being exhausted and emotionally overwrought. All this brought to an end, collapsed into its origins, by what he saw.

_At last, I found you._

It took little convincing on his end to secure your company the very next evening. He invited you to meet him at a small, intimate bar overlooking the river dividing Taito ward from Sumida. You were on time but he was early, already seated at a low table that bordered the generous windows. Nightfall coloured the sky, reflected in the glassy surface of the not-quite frozen waters beneath.

Everything had been perceptively normal, Genji was still more or less the same version of himself that you had met a day ago. Flirtatious, disarming, drawing all eyes towards him but unable to take his focus from you. You studied him from across the table; his confident posture that denied inhibition, a face that confirmed freedom from doubt. Unknown to you then, he was a lot like the river below— beautiful and serene at the surface with something dark and cold underneath.

The more you talked, the more comfortable you became around him. You spoke to him as if there was no possible way to hide behind words, openly and honestly. His eyes scintillated in the ambient light, his voice betrayed a craving for terrible things.

After some time passed, a small group entered and took up residence a table near yours. You wouldn't have noticed or paid attention if Genji hadn't sat up and moved to your side of the table. “I was too far away from you,” he reasoned, tipping his sake glass up and back, all calm sophistication.

You agreed, ending your suspicion and resting into his side, the privilege of your new closeness. “I felt that, too.”

He placed his free-hand just slightly over yours, discreet and insignificant to anyone who might have noticed but meaningful to you all the same.

You carried on in this way for a little longer, speaking in low voices between laughter and smiles as yours gradually lost its former shyness until you caught him looking towards the table. You looked too, absently, feeling something akin to an ice cube sliding down the back of your neck.

The eyes that looked back at you were entirely black, sclera and all.

Everything broke into a malfunctioning movie reel, flickering and snapping. Disorientated, you picked up on all the sounds around you, like the snow ticking against the windowpanes as it fell and glasses clinking across the other side of the room. All details magnified, overwhelming. You shut your eyes tightly, as if to ward away the feeling, mentally talking yourself down from the branch you had raced up into. Being so close, Genji was aware of how you shivered. Concerned, his fingers interlocked with yours. You sharply reorientated yourself, finding calm in his presence, slowing the racing thoughts. His voice was even, as if he had understood your state of venerability.

“Should we leave now?”

Everything settled back. You opened your eyes, pupils blown and confused. A second look at the table proved nothing about the people that sat there or that they even paid the slightest of mind. Even so, you wanted to leave all the same.

You nodded at him, weakly and he immediately helped you back to your feet, shielding you from the sightlines of the table. As he settled the tab, you slipped your shoes back on, helpless to cast one final look in their direction only to be ignored once again, which only served to convince yourself that you imagined it all in the first place.

‥ 

The concrete stairwell down to the streets from the third floor was steeped in a chill from outside. You could taste the cold on your tongue, hyperaware of the dense, frozen metal railing in your palm. Genji placed a hand on your back, guiding you down and providing a warmth that penetrated the shell of your coat. You moved out into slow falling snowflakes, he and you creating fresh tracks in the sidewalk among others, obscured by skirls of wind. Street lamps glowed pale orange against a starless gradient of pink and grey. Cars glided by, rushing the streets. Taillights vanished in the distance.

The walk to the closest train station was short, you purposefully took your time getting there. While stopped at an intersection, waiting for the lights to change, Genji laughed to himself.

“What?” You asked, looking up towards his face.

You caught his grin as it stretched into teeth, something that made it easy to forget the visual of the impossibly black scleras. Trying to shrug it off, he responded with an unconvincing: “Hm? Oh, it's nothing…”

“It's definitely something," you decided. "That look says more than you think it does.”

“Alright, alright. So maybe it's something...” Genji faked a serious expression in some commitment to explain, pressing a hand over his mouth to obscure the ever-present wry smile. “I started thinking how so many people fantasize about getting kissed in the rain—”

“You can’t laugh if you’re one of them, you know.”

“I'm not. Well, I don't think I am." He glanced up at the stalled crosswalk light for some gauge of time passing before elaborating, carefully. "I do think rain forces people closer together... for shelter. People find shelter in others, don't they? They seek it out with such purpose.”

“I suppose they might.” You mused before bravely wandering into a question you could not take back. “So, if not the rain... then what?”

Genji's face was of pure mischievousness and he responded eagerly, “What do I fantasize about? Closeness. The weather is... well, just weather.”

“Romantic,” you added, dryly, if only to hide the fact that you felt a flush creeping up on you once more. "Do you feel the same way about the snow? Is it just weather to you, or maybe something more?”

His tone shifted, subtly. Appropriately. “What are you asking me, exactly?"

He reached out, holding the side your face with his right hand, directing your attention. Commanding it. Against the skin, his palm registered hot in stark comparison to the surrounding winter winds. You felt your heart jump to your throat, consumed by the soft gaze that looked down to meet yours.

“Will it drive us closer?” He added, asking with more confidence than he needed. “Is that _maybe_ what you want?”

You fixated on the bow of his lips as he spoke, reading the small movements of his face. “Something like that," you responded, the presence of your voice retreating to a whisper. Want, a stupid and instinctive desire, challenged your attention. _Look at the details_ , Want said, _look at his pout. How he holds his lips when he isn’t smiling._

Genji dipped his head in, the space between you laughable and enough that you could have winced for him to stop short of kissing you then. Tension would chisel the moment before you into the banks of your memory— the cold winter night and the undeniable tug of threads between you, pulling you together. “Closer than this?” He asked, needlessly.

Saving you from having to verbalize that _god yes so much closer_ he pressed his lips against yours, asserting a root desire. You felt yourself melt away from the street, from your own head, all until his teeth sank into you. It was an oddly precise thing, just hard enough to break the thin skin of your bottom lip, bringing you sharply back to the cold street corner.

You pulled away and pressed a hand to your mouth, looking at him in mute horror. Fang-like tusks broke through his growing smile, your blood on his tongue and staining his lips. His eyes, half-lidded and dazed, in total submission to the feeling that captured him. A fire burned from within, vivid and red.

_He's— not human._

“I’m sorry, _so sorry_ ,“ Genji breathed slower in an effort to reign himself back, snowflakes settling over his hair and creating a crown above protruding horns, “I became carried away, swept up in the moment, put you at risk...”

You stood, heart pressed against your ribs, unable to move or turn away, unable to process what it was you were seeing under the glistening orange lights overhead. Through the smirk, speaking velvet and soft with a diabolical face, a splatter of crimson cleaned up with a swipe of a tongue and rendered another jolt of pleasure, enough for a subtle roll of the eye and dip of the shoulders.

"But, the things you do to me..."


	2. Chapter 2

Drawing back into himself, Genji restored the human appearance that had fooled you to begin with. Gone were the horns, tusks, marks, and all without evidence like the pure black stares of the strangers in the bar; there one moment and gone another, regressed into fantasy or something equally as unreal. His breathing stabilized and deepened, a halo of snow remained upon his product-slicked hair as more dusted his shoulders that shuddered. Even as everything had receded, blink by blink, the taste of copper lingered yet in your mouth.

He kissed you and drew blood— that was real, not imaginary. You pressed two fingers to your numbed lip, again, feeling for marks or a break in the skin’s surface. A liquid ache flowed through you from the point of entry, some small part of you wondered if it was venom.

_Did venom burn cold?_

A secondary thought: _Was that even possible?_

“What the hell was  _that_?” You asked as you finally managed speech, unsure if it really was an explanation you were after as you forced the fragile sounds. Yours was an earth dominated by war, omnic technology, levitating cars— there wasn’t any room left for the supernatural and reality's betrayal alone was enough to hurdle you into a crisis. Distress emerged as anger, jumbled and unorganized. “You bit me."

Absorbing everything in your tone, he raised an eyebrow as if to silently contest what you had said, _now now_.

You insisted, demanding more, breath hanging in the air. “... You _actually_ bit me.”

“Ah, yes, I _actually_ did,” Genji said, as if fully realizing the horror at the same time you were. His stance changed, slightly less proud, lips pulling and bending into a thoughtful pout. His eyelashes slipped over his eyes, demure, before his stare found you once again. Those amber eyes, demanding and intense, a look powerful enough to empty your mind of all rational thought. “Again, I'm so sorry... I assumed I was above impulse, especially one so primal, but not yet.”

“ _Not yet?_ ”

He was apologetic, plainly, hardly knowing the words to say but trying anyway. “It slips the mind, the threshold for pain _you humans_ are so, hm, unfortunately bound to. Really, it's embarrassing that I should forget... Mortifying, even.”

“I—,” You began, but stopped. There was no reasonable end to your sentence.

 _Not human. Not human._ Your heart beat with a warning, somewhere inside your throat. _Then what?_

Snow fluttered and fell, no more than before but somehow much colder, accumulating on lonely benches and vehicles parked up for the night. The orange of the streetlamps was no longer a gentle thing but insulting, a broken promise. The night wasn’t soft, it was plagued with unpronounced and meaningless danger. Evil lurked. You had seen it, pressed your lips against it. Let it sink its teeth into you.

“You’re shaking,” Genji said, attentively. There was little that slipped by him unnoticed.

You knew you had been, saw uselessness in denying it, craved the shelter and safety of your apartment. When he suggested getting you out of the cold, you had a hard time disagreeing even as common sense screamed, internally. _No way in hell. You know what you saw, what you felt._ And though the velvet of his voice was not to be trusted, you were powerless to resist all the same, separated from reasonable thinking and burning with curiosity you couldn't ignore or shut down. The crosswalk light changed. Genji linked his arm with yours and led you across the street, down to the concrete labyrinth of subway station without another word uttered between you.

‥

Emerging from the train after internal reprimanding and reasoning, you had since decided to stay quiet and wait— but for what? Your station was almost empty in the small hours of the evening. You continually caught his silhouette next to you in all the reflective surfaces you passed, dark windows from shops closed for the night and laminated maps. His profile was non-threatening, all prominent cheekbones and strong jaw, skin soft and bright and _alive_. You kept imagining looking up from over your shoulder and seeing something out of place.

_Not human. Not human._

_Then what?_

‥

You couldn't find your keys as you went to unlock the door. Genji graciously allowed you a few moments of panic before reaching into one of the deep pockets of his coat to produce them, proceeding to jangle them in front of your face. You would have accused him of taking them if you hadn't noticed the snow melting off them, droplets rolling down the silver chain. "Looking for these?"

“Thanks,” you mumbled, reflexively rather than grateful, as he placed them into your hand.

“You're so very welcome, but,” —irresponsible flash of canine— "now, I think, you owe me one."

“Hilarious," you supplied, thinking twice about turning your back to him with what he was saying.

“Maybe you could invite me in, maybe that'll be enough..."

“Why? Tell me why I'd want to do _that_ after everything that's happened?”

"I had 5 drinks at the bar and now I _really_  need to piss,” he explained, shamelessly, with effusive charm even as he said something so ridiculous and off the cuff.

Still, if your common sense was angry beforehand, it was downright livid when you told him the bathroom was the first door down the hallway and proceeded to let him in.

Night crept through your apartment like a living thing, moonlight cutting jagged lines over the carbonized bamboo floors. Shoes removed and knowing the space well enough, you moved about the dark, hanging your coat up before flicking a lamp on. Genji emerged from the bathroom, sliding the door closed and wandering back through the hallway into the open, letting his gaze roll over everything. He stopped as you came into focus, noticing how you stood tensed and cautiously eyeing him in return. 

“Look, _I promise_ I won't hurt you.”

You swore his eyes flickered, momentarily red again, a fire rekindled. “And what? I'm supposed to just believe that?”

“I think you’ll find that I’m very,” —voice dropped— “very,” —sneer— “ _persuasive_. And I'm also considered to be quite handsome _in both forms_ , a frame of reference you'll develop. Eventually. It's a deadly combination, is it not?”

“Deadly,” you echoed, arms folding defensively across your chest at his word of choice. Dark humour. “Huh, that's rich.”

“Oh, I’m that too."

You identified casual enjoyment in his response, joking as if it was one of your previous conversations. “Persuasive, handsome, and rich. Great. Is that supposed to be the distraction or the camouflage?”

“Either,” he winked, full of quiet mischief. "Both if you want it to be."

“You’re a real piece of work.”

“Thanks, I don't even have to try.”

You uncrossed your arms, sensing his willingness to speak to you openly. “So, what the universe has to say about humans dating monsters?”

His lips sealed into a firm line, inviting a new awkward stillness about the air as he resisted answering.

You began to clarify, staring sightlessly to the shadows sitting in the room's far corners. “The 'rules of the universe' or something like that—"

“Monster,” he said, flatly, then scoffed creating verbal distance from himself and the term. "Is that what you think I am?"

You arrived at the immediate and uncomfortable understanding that it was the wrong thing to say as he began to prowl around you, tall and broad, shoulders pulled back. He began hemming you in, making you feel smaller and smaller. You turned to pull him back into sight as he fled your peripherals just to find he had vanished.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” his voice rose, seemingly out of all directions. You turned once more on your heel, seeing nothing but hearing him as if he were in your ear. “What _I am_ is beyond comprehension, beyond language...” You stopped looking for him but kept listening for cues. You felt breath hitting your neck. You imagined lips moving, a bloodied smile from earlier, but saw nothing. “... but such terms are insulting all the same."

You pressed a hand to your neck, the skin had prickled; your nerves detected a presence but there was nothing you could physically touch.

"I am _not_ a monster,” said the voice, calm once again.

“Then what are you? And where are you?”

A beat of pure silence overtook the room as he decided whether to reveal himself or not, to prolong the guessing game, to preserve or deepen the enigma of his being. Finally: “I’m behind you.”

Following his directions, you peered over your shoulder, albeit apprehensively. There he was, comfortably draped over your couch, coat removed and top two buttons of his shirt undone, looking as if he had strode over and sat down rather than materialized.

“Come,” he said, patting the space next to him with a grin, apparently over his previous theatrics. “Sit. Talk.”

“... How did you do that?”

"I'll make a deal with you." He wagged an eyebrow. “You can me ask whatever questions come to you, but, you have to sit with me.”

You gave him a look of helpless confusion, visible objection woven into your posture.

“You know between the two of us," he continued, arching a single eyebrow, "I’m not the one acting strange.”

“Horns,” you protested, struggling to keep your voice light, motioning with two fingers pointed up at either side of your head. “You had horns.”

“That and more. So, what about them?”

“I think the point is obvious.”

“If I wanted to cause you harm and I do mean _genuine_ harm, the _unfathomable unthinkable unspeakable_ variety," —voice slowed, becoming sinister before easing back— "I would have already done so and we wouldn't be here right now.”

You knew there was no gesture strong enough to communicate what you felt but felt yourself, empty-palmed, holding your hands out.

He blinked, slow and steady, roughly imitating your exact action. “It’s not foreplay, I wouldn’t draw it out.”

“Well, that’s reassuring, isn’t it? Thank you for not killing me earlier, I appreciate it.”

“One _little_ bite and the mood is ruined," he sighed, expression souring just enough for you to forget the smooth human features had ever left the face you were staring it. "After you've fallen madly in love with me, this won't seem like much...”

"Wishful thinking, Genji."

He liked hearing the sound of his name coming from your mouth. It made him sit forward, renewed interest. "You like me, I can tell."

Your lip, your heart. Elsewhere, annoyingly. Throbbing. Distracting. Another betrayal. He pulled on something inside of you that you had been ignoring, colour flared in your cheeks. “You can't know that before I do," you said, wholly unsure of yourself.

“Do you know what _my kind_ is capable of?”

 _Your kind_.

"And what are you, exactly?”

He paused, taking a moment of delicious silence for all the unspoken words he had, then said, “Oni."

You echoed, “Oni…”

The word carried itself forward, on and out into the night: _O-ni._ He let his head fall back on his neck, easing back into the sofa, watching how it dissolved into you.

“You should have said so,” you said, _Oni_ still ricocheting and internally stirring, refusing to settle.

"I may not be like you, but I can still vaguely sense that it would inappropriate to bring up... Kind of a bad first impression, no?"

"But a second date is fine."

"Exactly, it had to be tonight," Genji took a dignified pause, proof that he might have believed what he was saying with some degree of certainty. "Waiting for the third would be almost barbaric, don't you think? I would be too far into the illusion to back out of it...”

“Honestly, I was probably better prepared to deal with the rumours of your family, let alone this—”

He grimaced, feigning a wince as he interrupted. “My family? Hm, not rumours, likely.”

“Still, I was prepared for that much… And then, _this_.”

He scoffed, pulling both hands back over his hair.“To think, I was trying to avoid awkward small-talk...”

“Awkward is a bad-pickup line.”

“Luckily mine was just good enough," he said, casually. A humorous allusion.

“You were harmless at a distance."

“Still harmless,” he smiled, pleasantly, unwilling to consider otherwise. “I’m no different than I was last night, the only thing that's changed since then is that you’ve seen something you can’t make sense of. Give it time.”

“Why me?” You shook your head, trying to delay his words from having any purchase. "In the first place, why me?"

“Why does anyone approach a stranger at a bar?”

“Companionship? Casual sex? Homicide? Depends on the person, really, and you’re not technically a person so I don't know.”

“That’s too bad, it was a good list.”

“Homicide included?”

“So dark,” he laughed, as one does when being falsely accused of something outlandish or impossible, “I'll clarify: two out of three piqued my interest. There's a time and place for the last one.”

“If you don’t want to kill me then what could you possibly want from me?”

“I want you to sit with me,” he fluttered his eyelashes, still managing to look up at you innocently. “After everything, I’m dying to have a conversation with you that isn't hostile, if that's at all possible anymore.”

Advancing the couch slowly, you sat with healthy distance separating you as if an invisible wedge, as if a few pathetic feet of space, would made the difference between life and death. “So, now what?” You asked, clasping your hands together in your lap, aware of how stiff your posture was.

“How are you feeling?”

"I don't know. Shock does that to people, mixes them up..."

"You haven’t stopped shivering." He slid over, minimizing the space between you, taking your hands with his. You didn’t fight him because it was pleasant and reassuring, as much as you hated to admit to yourself. "Better?" He asked, genuinely wondering if his warmth was cure enough.

"Better," you mumbled back, reluctantly.

“We were laughing and joking before, can’t we go back to that?”

“You were different then. I thought you were like me. Flesh, blood, bone... presumably.”

“I still am. Look at me, feel me if that helps..." Long distended pause, one side of his lips pulling back in a suggestive expression. "I'm yours to study.”

You refrained from comment, allowed your eyes to travel over him with judgement, maybe, but nothing as harsh as you wanted. You tried to imagine his face as you saw it outside, laying the features over his face, focusing. "Can you show me again?"

"You're still in shock," he said, trying to dissuade. "Still shaking, still unsure."

"Maybe, but, I think I want to see _you_ again."

Genji took his time agreeing, anticipation growing and sprawling, flushing the air with his own reservations about the request. "Very well," he murmured, gently, sensing the veil's comfort had already worn thin.

One of his hands slipped away from yours, searing lilac veins flaring under the cuff of his sleeve with excitement he kept tightly suppressed. Finger skimming up your collar and neck, thumb pressing briefly to your lip, in a sequence of little touches and grazes until he could gently press a palm over your eyes. View obscured only for a moment, a small distortion, his hand dropped. There was the face you had seen outside in the snow. His remaining grip on your gave a reassuring pulse. 

You could feel your breath halt, having to concentrate on it to maintain some kind of respiration as shallow as it was. "May I?"

He looked at you quizzically as you asked, both eyebrows buckling, bending the red markings on his face, until you pulled both hands free and gestured towards his face. He gave you a small nod of consent and then held still. You pressed both hands against his indigo white skin and he hissed at the touch, indication of either a sharp discomfort or pleasure. "Sorry," he growled out after, automatically, for the surprised look that had overtaken your face. Prolonging seconds of pure, unblinking eye-contact in attempts to establish sincerity. "Impulse..."

"It's— _okay_ , _"_  you decided, frightening yourself with how you had genuinely meant it before repeating. "It's okay."

Succumbing to your touch, becoming the subject of your curiosity, he sat still and mostly quiet. Allowing it, inviting it. You ran your thumbs up the horns from his forehead, feeling where the flesh turned rigid and stiff. You gazed deeply into his eyes, red as a blood moon. You became familiar with his true form, simultaneously learning what took the place of the fear inside you as it ran out.


	3. Chapter 3

You hadn’t said a thing in your examination. You took it all apart in a state of voicelessness as if it were something that could be broken down into smaller, workable pieces. The longer you sat with him, the more certain you became that he truly had no intention of hurting you as promised and with nothing else to distract you, him dedicated to a complimentary stillness, you were left to face the unavoidable: there was _something_ there. Something invisible and gravity-locked. Nothing you could control, nothing you could change.

Genji, watching you fixedly, was first break into conversation again. He slid an opened hand up your forearm from where it bent at the elbow, eventually cupping the back of your hand pressed against his cheek. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, affectionately nuzzling you much like a cat would.

“Do you?" You asked while completely unsure of how best to put what you felt into words. You would have been amazed if he could understand what was going on in your head, if he was capable of finding any rhyme or reason in your dead-end logic, trying to process to much too fast. "Tell me."

“You’re thinking,” —a false pause, face contorting with the cleanest bit of strain— “ _he’s so attractive,_ and really, how could I argue with that?”

You felt like rolling your eyes at his poor impression of you.

“And if you weren't, you are now."

“Well, you _are_ very attractive."

He thanked you, quietly. You determined there was a possible shade of embarrassment underneath the words.

It took him half a lifetime to find comfort in what he was, maybe more. It took you all of a few hours.

“Actually,” your palm began to drift as you spoke, cheek to temple, pressing a thumb against one of his horns, “I keep asking myself how any of this is possible...”

Genji responded with something like a purr, once again inviting the comparison of a cat. You gave him a cautious look in return to which he exposed his teeth towards. Baked enamel, a model’s smile, bared by the curved tusk-like fangs. “I'm sorry, I can hardly contain myself but I'm _trying_..." Your cautious look deepened but he assured you with a slow trusting blink. "I mean that just as innocently as anyone else would. I'm not really on the verge of losing myself, I just love the attention."

You obliged him with gentle scratching at the crown of his head before retracing lines back to the horns, he made little satisfactory sounds of approval. Audible exhaling, happily sighing.

“What were you doing at a club in the first place?”

“You mean, only bored humans are attracted to lights and music?”

"Not exactly what I meant but close enough." With the pad of your thumb, you gave two encouraging upward strokes for confirmation. He seemed to understand and beyond that, melt further. "I wouldn't think clubs would attract Oni. What brought you there?"

“I like pretending,” he teased before finding a variation of seriousness, “I’ve spent much of my existence like this, so, let’s call it my one bad habit.”

“Just one?" Although his answer was truthful, it felt elusive. You assumed there was something he wasn’t saying, that he was playing up honesty to divert attention away from some obvious destruction he left behind. You took your hands back, piling them in your lap. He frowned at the loss of contact but said nothing of it.

“I know you’re trying to piece it all together,” Genji murmured, infuriatingly low and soft. “Make it easy on yourself, let it come together own its own... Here, tell me what you see. In this moment, right now, what does all of this look like to you?”

“Like I’m in over my head,” you responded, reflexively.

"Fair. Now, ask me.”

“What does all of this look like to _you_ , Genji?”

“A second chance.”

‥ 

You had scarcely remembered becoming too tired to show him out or even wanting him to leave at all and eventually fell asleep on the couch, the side of your cheek pressed helplessly against his body. Noticing your exhaustion, Genji had captured your jaw and beckoned you close. You were unsure if there was a heart beating inside his chest as your pulse jumped into your ears and flooded your senses once you rested fully against him. His intoxicating body heat made sleep unavoidable and within minutes the room went blurry and dark.

By the time morning arrived, he was gone.

Comforter from your bed wrapped snugly around your body, you rose from the couch and optimistically scanned the the room for any signs that suggested you weren’t alone. His shoes and coat were gone from the door, that was somehow still locked from the inside. You wondered as you put a quick breakfast together when he had left— or, really, why at all— before deciding your thoughts were prone to poor rationalization as you had only just woken up. You waited for reason to pervade but found yourself quietly missing him. Unwilling to sit and think about how your brain was surely broken, you devoted the rest of your morning to research, burning the images of Oni into your brain and feeling them become a part of you— just as he was.

‥

He met you later that afternoon in a cafe.

The place was his suggestion and you had walked there because it was close enough to home, deciding you would survive with mitts and a scarf piled high around your neck. As you peered inside through the front windows, you pinpointed Genji sitting at the far back corner. He chose a spot with two velvet armchairs that flanked a low table while he leafed through a magazine and slowly devoured a slice of cake.

“I read about Oni.”

His eyes lit up when you approached, immediately entertaining alternatives, considering lying or plucking the word from your mind, taking it back— until he settled on the notion that he really had wanted you to know, and that he maybe even approved of your curiosity.

You settled, across, with the intention of watching him. Observing all that you could. There was a lingering smell of almond and fig underneath the bitter coffee in the air, something you noticed as you unwound your scarf and rolled your jacket over the back of your seat.

“Anything good?” He asked, all the same inflection as if you had been reading tabloids detailing celebrity scandal, body language of sudden determined inquiry. _Oh yes, tell me all about what the humans are saying._

“Good isn’t necessarily my word of choice.”

“I see. _Your kind_ have always been so opinionated. Suppose I should be flattered, really.” He supplied with a tone that did not sincerely mean he found it 'flattering' but would act as such to keep the conversation from falling into offensive territory. “Tell me something, let's talk.”

“Apparently  _my kind_ consider you a product of naive beliefs, a character in stories from a remote past—”

“Consider me remotely offended,” Genji sneered, taking a drink from a tall, glass tumbler. Something effervescent with a sprig of rosemary. “I am _very_ real.”

"There's a lot of discussion on whether or not you're good or evil and although I'm not an expert, even that feels like an oversimplification. If anything, the only common ground out of everything has been that Oni don't exist, that _my kind_ made them up... So, that leads us to now, in the present, with me actively trying to convince myself that you're not a hallucination now that we're in the same place again.”

 _The human mind is a funny thing._  He took another sip of his drink, running his tongue along his bottom lip afterwards. “So, what if I am?”

“Well, I've considered that." You felt yourself growing shy underneath his calm observation. "But, I'm leaning towards accepting you aren't. And so, if me looking at you right now isn’t a hallucination, then—”

“Then...?”

“Then you’re proof of so much more." You meant to stop talking, but the words themselves were imposing and impossible to stop producing. "Not just Oni. Other existences, other worlds...”

“This world— a singularity of stubborn nature and disbelief, as fragile as the glass I'm holding— is one of many.” He set the drink down on the table and leaned into his lap, settling his elbows over his knees. “But _this world_ is also _your world_ and I suppose that's reason enough for me not to destroy it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking."

He laughed. Your mind’s eye was unable to let go of the face you had studied the previous night.

The cafe encased you with dark grey walls, numerous vases bursting with life of flowers in a dreamy spectrum from cream and pale blue to purple and gold, all offset by antiqued wood tables and apothecary cabinets— but then him, in violent juxtaposition, at the very core of it all. Genji, the demon in his disguise, drinking what could have been elderflower cordial for all you were aware of, going through the motions of his polished human-act.

"So, there's more out there," you concluded— without his direct confirmation.

“These 'stories' as you humans call them would have been forgotten in time if there was  _nothing_  there. At some level, you know this. _I know_ you know this." He lowered his voice, speaking with languid dips of his eyelashes. "These legends survive because of faith. We believe they offer us something. We search for answers and truth in them, we look for shelter—”

You knew you were making some kind of a face because he stopped explaining and lost all semblance of seriousness. He laughed once more before straightening in his seat, 

“I'm getting carried away and losing you... So, I'll say, stories of Oni survive because they’re not stories.”

“Your mythology is history?”

“Would you like an honest answer or an easy one?”

Out of everything you had crammed into your head, the gentle _and_ the violent, you weren't certain you wanted either.

Since your meeting, another small table at the front of the cafe had filled with students, their faces shined with laptop-light in a fortress of textbooks. There was a distance clatter of a teacup dropping onto a saucer, of milk frothing, of matcha being whisked. All of these served as markers, ensuring you that your world would continue on, undisturbed. Unknowing, unaware.

You waited for a glimpse of blood red in his gaze or a glimpse at the horns but he remained faithful to his disguise.

“I’ve been so rude," the corners of his mouth pulled taut, "I haven't offered to get you anything.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you assured him, even though you were far from 'fine'. He already knew some variation of that. He read apprehension, heard your words pinched and tight, noticed the residue of tension in your shoulders and neck from hours of poor-postured research.

“Try this,” Genji's gestured downward to the plate as he offered. “It's delicious and I would _kill_ for a second piece.”

You narrowed your eyes, making an unimpressed face. He endured it.

“I think I’ll have to keep making jokes like that until you realize I’m kidding,” he said, portioning a bite-sized piece then wagging the fork side to side over the plate in amateur hypnotization. “Aren’t you curious? I can’t tell you how many deserts I’ve tried in my lifetime but you should trust me when I say I know good cake.”

Demons were supposed to eat— _what, exactly?_ Human organs, hunt and kill with their hands and teeth? Not order desserts on baked-clay plates with powdered-sugar and whipped cream. _Definitely not._ What did the internet search engines have to say about this?

“I’m a little more focused on reality slowly caving in on me and all...”

“Yes and I _adore_ you for it, but more importantly, you can’t expect me to eat this by myself without sharing.”

 _More importantly_ was contextually debatable and the most _Genji-like_ thing he had said all afternoon. You allowed yourself the weak grin it inspired; there was a reason why you had come to the cafe, there was a reason why you wanted to continue seeing him.

Clouds fell away from the sun and you noticed the walls weren’t grey after all but a dark, dark green. You were shocked even further by what the pure sunlight did to his eyes having only seen him in the evenings and never touched by natural light. His eyes weren’t brown in his human form as you had previously believed they were. They were so much more, a smashed piece of citrine. Or amber.

“One bite,” you negotiated. “Will that make you happy?”

“Endlessly,” he purred, picking the fork back up.

You sat closer to the edge of your seat, knees touching the low table that separated you.

“Open,” he said as he lifted his hand. The unforgivable smirk that crossed his lips that only helped to reinforce the innuendo.

Leaning over the table was one thing, closing the small space was satisfying in itself, identifying cologne rising from his skin by his wrist and hand cupped under the cutlery. The taste of the cake was another thing, complex, and fragrant like tea but tempered by rich chocolate. 

He pulled an eyebrow up, waiting for your verdict even though your expression said enough.

You pressed a hand to your mouth. “Damn, it _is_ good.”

‥ 

The walk back was windy but filled with the sugary crunch of snow beneath your boots. Icicles hung from car fenders and shop awnings, your jackets occasionally brushed up against the other in stride.

“If everything you've said so far has been acceptable for a third date, I wonder what you could _possibly_ tell me on the fourth."

"I could say that we were meant to find each other..." Genji began but stopped with urgent consideration. His expression, worried first, relaxed. “Ah, pretend I said nothing.”

“I can’t decide if that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard or the craziest.”

“It’s slightly more complicated than that." His sincerity was both confusing and jarring. 

"We have time."

"I'll clarify. On the fourth."

" _Genji_ ," you scolded, gently.

You felt him slow his pace down and determined to stay at his side, you adjusted.

"Well, there's a story I wonder if you know. It will help me explain..."

"Tell me."

“Once, long ago, long long _long_ ago, there was an Oni... and not that it is integral to the story, but you should know he was devastatingly handsome.”

“Was it you?”

“I’ll let you decide.”

“I'm certain it was _you_. Go on.”

“He came from a family of nobility and tremendous power, a family that were _Oni at heart_ but able to look human at will. He and his family lived in this world because his father used to listen to the humans, accepting their offerings and coming to their aid when they called. The humans respected my kind, but feared them and left them be all the same..."

The first signs of sunset began to wash over the dove grey sky. A person walking a dog in a velcro-secured plaid jacket skittered down the opposite side of the street. Genji continued. 

"... When this Oni was young, _if such a thing exists to my kind_ , he thought he had everything the human's world could offer and grew unhappy. He was safe and well-provided for by his father but bored beyond anything.”

“Poor rich boy.”

“Indeed,” Genji sneered. “The Oni's father had commanded no one in his clan to have contact with the humans in order to keep the nature of their business secret— but the idea of an eternity with the same faces made him break.”

“Hold up! What kind of secret?”

Genji gave you a sideways look, as if to ask,  _what do you think secret means?_

“Right, of course... Sorry, you were saying?”

"Oni, aware of his father's rules, found temptation too strong—”

“So you, er, I mean _he_  broke his father’s rules, didn’t he?”

“He did. He wandered outside the castle and into the village. It was remarkably easy, no one knew who or what he was. Everything was new and exciting.” 

Genji drew into a long pause. Afraid of interrupting or derailing his attention, you waited for him to speak again while transfixed on his pacing, both verbal and physical.

“Needless to say, he kept going back. Over time, he grew a fondness for their kind, learning much about them and their ways, but one in particular... changed everything.”

You knew, somehow. "He fell in love."

Genji echoed what you said, lost in the words or the spaces between them.

“They... became the only thing that mattered to him. Eventually, this made him confess to his father...”

There was another block of silence, no one appeared to approach or exist for as far as you could see. 

“... In his father's anger, he was stripped of the veil. No longer able to hide or blend in."

You looked up over your shoulder, seeing that Genji had become tusks and horns once more. His scarf thrashed as wind scraped by, chaotic and wild.

"His father said it was for his protection. Said a human could never truly love him...”

Without thinking, you linked an arm with his, feeling the narrative slipping away. "What did he do?”

Genji gazed sightlessly ahead, out of his body for a time, then gave a gentle laugh in recovery. “Exactly as you would expect he would have. He hid behind a mask and went back. He had to find out for himself...”

"Did they accept him? In the end, when he showed them what he was, did they still love him?"

There was a stunning pause. Genji looked as if he wanted to say several things but none of them _tasted_ right. His voice came soft, but calm.

“What do you think?”

‥

Once you reached your apartment, Genji dutifully walked you up the few flights of stairs to your floor. After unlocking the door, you turned to face him.

“That’s not the end of the story,” you said, voice indicating you had some grasp on why he let it fizzle out. Why he left it hanging as you had the keys in the doorknob. 

There was a pink blush dusted over the indigo white tip of his nose and he winced, disguising it as a breathy laugh. “No, you’re right, it isn't.”

You still half-expected a voice that was rough on the edges and intimidating, sharp or guttural, to come from the mouth of the demon. A language made of growls and other broken sounds. Even with the changes in his appearance, he lost none of his expressive, silvery tone.

“So, what happened after?”

“I avoid telling that part, even to myself.”

 _Especially to myself_ , his eyes said.

You invited him inside with the offer of warming up— if it were at all possible that he could remotely experienced the lethality of winter as you had— and immediately went the kettle. Even if neither of you had really wanted tea, the excuse was innocuous enough to spend even more time together without blatantly drawing attention to the fact that you weren't ready to say goodbye yet. Late afternoon was beginning to blend into evening, the sun had only just slipped below the glowing skyline. Genji sat on your sofa and nested himself in the comforter still lazily shrugged aside from the night before. You handed him a steaming mug of tea which he accepted with a little thank you. You stopped yourself from warning him that it was still too hot to drink, noticing once you sat he had already pressed the mug to his lips.

You planned to covertly prod at the possible outcomes of his story but found that trying to say anything was hard because as you had opened your mouth to speak, he had startled you by pressing his lips against yours. His kiss was gentle at first as he tested your reaction, then deepened with need once he was met with your gracious acceptance. Although it was more probable than not that it was his devious little way of ensuring he had your attention, distancing you from all that was said, there was no part of you that wanted to stop.

If his tea-warmed tongue and lips on yours, or, the soft shine of sweat skating across his clavicle were hallucinations, you hoped to _never_ quit having them.


	4. Chapter 4

You weren’t sure how or if he had tried to, but you wondered if Genji had been using his powers against you. There was no awkwardness, no apparent lack of coordination, only a fluidity of movement and intention established in each ravenous kiss, pulling you deeper into a state that bordered incoherency. Awareness embedded in the other's natural movements, reaffirming familiarity you could not place but there all the same. It was all so maddeningly familiar. Nevertheless, if anything  _you_ were the one with power over _him_ , proven over and over in his inability to keep his sounds contained— as if he were starved for your touch. Need, the only formless thing you could make sense of, was wicked and sharp. Completely unavoidable.

The looks that flickered over him saved either of you from having to turn thoughts into words. He broke away, stared down your face, knew what you wanted. Once his shirt started coming undone, his hands making quick work of a fussy task, did you begin slipping into and out the possibility of where you were about to wind up. Leaning back on the sofa, you pressed a finger against your kiss-bruised lips for a shameless display approval of the devilishly handsome form as he revealed more and more of his skin. You had no thoughts about the story he began but refused to finish, no need to think of anything besides what was happening beyond his undressing, so focused on the deepening ‘v’ of his chest as button after button slipped through the cotton shirt that he could have changed forms without you realizing.

As he worked the last button free and his shirt fell open, your cheeks singed with a gradient of pinks and reds, he froze. His hands remained poised at height of his navel, his head half-turned over his shoulder as if to gauge at some invisible presence down the hall. Your mind seized-up for an irritating moment and in that hiccup did your mind’s eye recall hundred year old images of Oni as well as a gratuitous marble carved statue of Lucifer. This, the faintest of reminders for how far you had fallen and subsequently how little you cared. 

Genji, while distracted, tilted his head yet as if he were straining to hear something far off. You heard nothing at all except for how hard both he and you had begun to breathe in excitement. You waited, as patiently as you could, to catch something, anything, but to your annoyance first and curiosity second, his attention had been forced out of the walls of your room for no discernible reason. Sitting forward, you pressed a palm to the flat and deliciously solid muscle of his core, urging him to come back into the moment. His flesh radiated heat, a heartbeat or something that closely mimicked one buried at a deeper level. You looked at him expectantly then whispered his name— only then did he snap back into his thoughts, able to see and hear you once again. You distinguished his focus returning in his features, settling over his brow, an expression washing over him that you had trouble making sense of. Varying degrees of pain, embarrassment, and defeat. Nothing profitable in context.

Genji put his hands on top of the one you had pressed against his core as he inhaled deeply. You felt him take a deep, preserving breath. “You’re not going to like what I’m going to say next...”

“Then don’t say anything,” was all you could offer.

He flinched, inaudibly, readying himself for a less than favourable reaction before continuing. “I have to leave.”

At first, you exhaled a little laugh to play it off. You fluttered your lashes and breathed in, taking notice of how the air felt empty of his presence, telling of how much he had pulled away. His face remained locked in the same expression and did not break into the sly smile you hoped for. As it began to sink in that he had been serious, you made little effort to reign in  the disappointment you felt. “Wait, you're serious... Now, really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, his voice rounding out into a growl that was not quite menacing but annoyed all the same. “I don't want to but I need to.”

“So then stay,” you tried to negotiate but he had the nerve to reaffirm what he had been saying by a long, wordless look with those lucent, amber eyes that expressed everything he couldn't put into words.

"It's... more complicated than that, I'm afraid."

You pulled your hand back from his chest as he began to fuss with the buttons of his shirt, managing to make himself appear presentable again in a matter of moments. Tugging the collar of his shirt so it sat as it should then raking his hand through his hair to settle it from all the times you had fussed with it.

"Do I look okay? Not that it really matters, but..."

“Fine," you assured him, dropping back into the couch, all the momentum there could have sent you rolling back onto the floor if not for the arm that kept you semi-upright. "Wow, you’re really leaving in the middle of this, huh?”

He gave you a sheepish roll of his shoulders and the way you saw him moving through his own discomfort blanketed the vision of him with blood red eyes and horns; he looked so human as he was tense, gripped with such base emotions. Eventually, he nodded, affirmatively. Reluctantly.

You followed him as he moved towards the door, unable to keep yourself from pulling a face after he slipped his boots back on, though he did not allow you to make it without comment. As he stood back into his full height, he cocked his head and gave a sympathetic click of his tongue.“You’ll see me soon, I promise. Don’t give me that face, those sad eyes..."

You stopped him, residual mindlessness from before seizing you like a tide climbing over you. You hoped you could tempt him to go against whatever sound he heard, whatever it was that called. You kissed him just as badly as you wanted to without a shred of control, he was pliable and his hands immediately gripped onto you, pulling you in closer. He backed you against the narrow hallway wall, giving a pitiable groan. You began to assume you’d won and would be rewarded for your nerve but he tugged away again, forcefully for his own sake, freezing once more.

Whatever it was he’d heard, he’d heard it again.

Then, he pushed his chin up, fighting a dramatic eye-roll. “You are purposely making this difficult but I don’t blame you. To be fair, I deserve it and as much as I would loveto make you _pay for it_ , if I don’t leave soon, he’ll come looking for me.” Genji curled his lip, adding scornfully. "I can't imagine anything more revolting.”

You handled your defeat with all the dignity you could, nodding in a comprehensive ‘yes’ but feeling your mouth pull into an expression of displeasure all the same. “Who would come here?”

“My brother,” his lip curled as he explained, keeping it purposefully vague as he reached for the door's handle. “He's always had the worst timing.”

“Wait, what?" You asked, even as you sensed a strong disinterest to explain. Everyone knew about Genji _and_ Hanzo Shimada, but had it crossed your mind before that moment to consider that's what he was hearing in the background?

Genji, totally unresponsive to your questioning, not about to disclose anything more save for another promise to resume exactly where you left off later, slipped out in a hurry to avoid your concern. The door closed with a soft click. You stood, staring into the space that he had just occupied, your brain struggling to keep up before it hit you that Genji had forgotten something.

“Oh, wait!” 

You reached out, grabbing the garment off the hook and although he had gone out all of five seconds earlier and you assumed you’d find him still making his way down the long corridor. You found, however, that hall was completely and utterly empty, devoid of all presence. 

“... You forgot your coat...”

‥

Later on, you went out for a walk with the intention of clearing your head and although the weather felt objectively nicer than previously, it did absolutely nothing to help you put your situation into perspective. Without being conscious of your path, too wrapped up in the conversation you were having with yourself, you turned into street you hadn’t normally made a habit of passing down. A shop with dilapidated signage, squished between a laundromat and an unmarked steel fire-exit, caught you attention because of an elderly woman with a fiery orange pashmina wrapped high around her neck, prepared for temperatures twice as harsh, had been unsuccessfully trying to open a door while balancing a large wooden crate. You immediately recognized she could use a hand or two and offered yours.

“What’s in here?” You asked, prompted by the unexpected weight of the box that she passed to you. _A ton of rocks?_

The old lady slid the door open, waving you inside as she replied cheerfully. “Quartz! Lots and lots of it!”

“Yeah, that feels about right...”

It was only after you stepped inside did her answer make irrefutable sense. You found yourself standing inside a small esoteric shop, filled with displays of silks, geodes, books, candles, tapestries, and incense. You set the crate down to the nearest countertop, a place she she had gestured towards before she set her gloves down and began yanking at the scarf. After a bit of unwinding, it flowed to the floor in a heap as she stared at you, completely aghast, then back at the door you had both just walked through. It were as if the thin buffer between her and the surrounding world had dropped and a sixth sense was enabled— as if, she was newly alert to a not-so distant sound, _like call from demon brother in a neighbouring plane of existence_. For the second time in the same day, you looked around, determined to hear something.

“You,” she raised a hand to point, a rude gesture made less confrontational by the kind of fear or amazement she held in her eyes behind fogged up glasses. That, and her distinctly non-threatening appearance, resembling a second-hand shop mannequin, albiet a supremely coridnated and stylish one.

With your brows knitted together, you also pointed towards your chest. “What about me?”

“You're... being followed,” she rasped while remaining remarkably calm for all that was crafted into the phrase. "There's something dark. Something obscure but powerful, beyond the usual spirits. I'm old enough to have seen a lot," verified alone by her winkles, her eclectic outfit of vintage pieces that had likely been purchased while still fashionable, "but _this_  is something else entirely!"

You waited for her to finish, almost hungrily, correctly assuming she had been talking about Genji.If at any other point in time during your life a complete stranger became so staggered by your aura, you might have been tilted, but the passage of time had been dense over your last few days and you had become a decisively different person than you were a a week ago. Your threshold for the bizarre was significantly heightened, fortified. “Oh, right. Yeah. Him...”

She was more than confused by your casual air, perhaps more accustomed to complete dismissal than resignation. “ _Him?_ So, you can see-  _him_?”

See him? You could talk to him, flirt with him, make out with him too. None of those seemed like details you wanted to divulge. “It's kind of a funny story, actually…” You said, trying to downplay everything if it were at all possible. You didn’t want to think about her reaction too hard, knowing when push came to shove, she had every right to be as appalled as she was; shock was _probably_ the correct response when finding out the person you're seeing isn't human. "... I went on a date with him, accidentally."

"Just terrible, such a tragedy." She pressed both hands to either sides of her forehead, a gesture that easily conveyed how intensely she felt about the situation _._ “You’ve been marked, haven’t you? He's zoned in on you, left an impression. We humans, we're so _weak_ and _pliable_ , so easily played with.” She worked herself into a gradual crescendo, theatrically draping a hand across her forehead at the height of it. “Oh, you poor soul, how dreadful for you...”

You wondered she ever had the chance to see Genji's human veil if she would change her mind. Your mind wandered away to think of his precise cheekbones and clear eyes that annihilated your capacity for common sense with a single, practiced look. _Dreadful? Hardly. I was looking forward to being played with..._

The old lady moved around in a flurry as you were busy in your own thoughts. You watched her rummage through different drawers of antique cabinets before locating what inspired the search, returning to where you stood to handle you a neat bundle of ceremonial sage, tied together with a thin string. “You’ll need this,” she said, with a solemn dip of her head. "This and a whole well of salt."

You turned it over and over in your hand, wanting to explain that you weren't trying to repel the demon that had recently come into your life so much as you were hoping to keep him from leaving the next time you were in the heat of the moment. Instead, you formulated a thank you and accepted it, storing it safely in one of your jacket's pockets.

“It’s the least I can offer you,” she said, no differently than if you had sneezed and she handed you a tissue. She hooked her glasses down her nose with a finger, working herself up to her tippy-toes to correctly try to stare down your face. “Consider it necessary, I'm throwing you the equivalent of a life raft,” she was close enough for you to count the rhinestones on her frames. “If you see a drowning person, you help them. This is no different than that, so, I insist you take it.”

You nodded and thanked her once more, less of a voice than previously. She settled, flat on her feet, then took a few steps backward. It hadn’t resonated with you that you had shared any likeness with someone who was drowning but you bowed to her regardless and went on your way back out into the snow.

She called out to you one last time, scrambling to light sparks with flint as you left, a good luck ritual and farewell: “Do let me know if you need something stronger! Free of charge!"

‥

Maybe it was because of what the old lady had said but you were unable to untangle yourself from the idea that Genji was following you as you walked back to your apartment. Maybe it was just the accumulation of everything racing around your head but you were also helpless to imagine all manner of folklore creature tailing behind you as you moved, a masquerade of orge faces. Foxes with golden tails and ruby eyes. Ghostly figures. The far off echoes of those sitting idle around fires, folk-tales rolling off the tongue. Each alleyway and shine passed were all potential portals to other planes of existence. Each meeting with Genji, blurred pre-existing boundaries; they melted, transformed, shuffled your world and his closer together.

It wasn’t until you were home, safe and alone with your laptop, that you were able to tear your mind out of fantasy; you passed the rest of the day aimlessly cycling through tabs, sinking into technological insulation from ideas you weren't willing to confront just yet, ideas that were unfolding around you whether you paid them any attention or not.

Eventually, you powered your laptop down and the room went soft and dark with the absence of artificial light. As your eyes adjusted to the new swaddle of shadow, night settling upon the city, you heard knocking that jolted you upright. Investigating the front door, hopeful that Genji had come back but looking first through the peephole— _as anyone should when it’s late, suspicions being inherently useful devices taking into account the incidence of a demon in your life or not_ — you saw no one on the other side. After a disappointed exhale, turning on your heel to fall back into bed, it was only once you began to backtrack when Genji’s mischievous lilt rose from behind you.

" _Knock knock_."

So, there you were, betrayed by your spatial awareness since as you span around  _there he was_  leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his ribs. You pressed a hand to your chest and swore under your breathe in surprise, not afraid of him but rather authentically taken back by his incredible stealth. You hadn't heard a thing, the floorboards creaking under your feet maybe, but nothing behind you until his voice.

“Ah, I'm sorry!" Genji's mouth stretched into an apologetic grin you couldn’t for the life of you be mad at, white and indigo. His features and outline were crisp in the moonlight pouring in from the far window, true-form veiled.

Happy as you were to see him, his presence left you flushed with an excess of unwanted adrenaline and lended your voice a tone that proceeded to deny everything you said. “No, it's alright," you squeaked, a hand still pressed against your chest, considering for the faintest of moments that maybe you should go and fetch the sage from your jacket pocket.

"Rude of me to invite myself in, I promise to try harder to follow your delicate human conventions...”

"Well, I would appreciate that. It's entirely accurate to say that I usually expect to see people on the  _other_ side of the door...”

“Again, I'm so sorry. Really, I should know better." Genji pushed away from the wall to close the small space keeping you separated though his movements were mindful, slowed by concern after scaring you, innocent as his intentions had been. He kept his voice gentle but let it drop. Lower, sweeter, softer. “So, what are you doing up so late? The sky is dark, the moon is out and you should be sleeping.”

You sank into his hypnotic tone and Genji laughed, warmly, identifying how the manipulation of his voice produced a weakness. Tactical flirtatiousness.

“Were you waiting for me, maybe?”

“Maybe I was,” you replied, slowly, eventually finding a response. “How did you know I wasn't sleeping? Were you watching?”

He took another step towards you, eyes flickering down your form. “You ask me that as if I've ever looked away.” 

You raised an eyebrow, finding a verbal reply unnecessary for how he rushed to respond. 

“Of course, I’m only teasing... I suppose it's fair to disclose that I might have been watching you. Just now, just for a bit.”

You asked, before you gave yourself time to decide if you genuinely wanted to know. “Why?”

He finished closing the space between you, prowling closer. The dark could not mask his features like it could the environment and although his human veil was up, his skin appeared to glow from underneath. Even in his convincing disguise, you could see the supernatural. The exceptional, the remarkable. “Because," —he breathed, lips lifting into a smirk— "I can." _It's because you're only human. O_ _nly human but my human._

You asked, quieter. “If you can watch me without me knowing, move without me hearing, can others?"

"Others?" He halted, an unsavoury conversational pause, loath to confirm as his smirk broke. His confidence, however, remained. "They can but they wouldn't dare.”

You _almost_ missed the privilege of ignorance, of not knowing what was really out there for simplicity sake... all until you factored in that would mean giving him up alongside it. It wasn't worth that. A smile edged over your face that he was observably relieved to find.

"I want you safe," he said, the tip of his nose nudging against yours. You felt the contact in the tips of your toes. "I always get what I want."

Intriguing logic. Your voice fell into a dreamy pitch, revealing more than you it would have. “Do you?” It wasn't what you said, but how you said that it that indicated you were more than ready to move onto the next item on the list because the next item was _a little more interesting and overdue_ than anything else. He had promised to pick up where you had last left off and that became astoundingly important in each passing moment he kept his hands to himself.

“I wonder what else you could possibly want, Genji...” You just had to say his name— looking at him dead in the eyes, saying his name. Calling, pulling.

Closer and closer.

His voice was deep, coming from within his chest, causing you to freeze. "You mean, what could I possibly want besides you? Nothing, nothing at all."

You fought to keep composure. A whole 3 second battle.

There was nothing else that had to be said or considered and for that, you were full of dizzying relief when he took you into his arms. He entertained apologizing for having to leave before but that would have just been one more wedge between what you’d both been waiting for and therefore a complete waste of time. Everything moved fast, driven by promise. The two of you mutually impatient with standing went towards the bed. You hardly needed to think about it, he guided you. In a matter of blinks he was positioned above you, weight gracefully hoisted over your body and exhales fanning across the skin as he skirted human-teeth over your neck. You registered the sensation of fangs, contact that felt like too much and not enough. He knew precisely what he was doing.

It was useless to pretend you didn’t like the teasing when he knew better. You were a shivering wreck, that said enough.

“So,” Genji purred, moving his mouth away from your throat just enough to ask, “where were we?”

You weren't sure if the situation required that you acted more reserved than you had been but there was just something excessively taunting about the sheer look of approval he gave you in return that pardoned the thought completely.

"Here, more or less."

His smirk would be the end of you. So wicked, so dangerous.


End file.
